


New Life

by callmeflo



Series: Drawing Dead [2]
Category: Those Who Went Missing
Genre: Gen, Wanderer Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-12 08:58:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19943539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmeflo/pseuds/callmeflo
Summary: The soft scratching of her drying fineliner against rough paper is the only unnatural sound in the air.





	New Life

The breeze is gentle and warm as it tangles the loose strands of hair about her face, and she patiently brushes each lock behind her ears every time. The soft scratching of her drying fineliner against rough paper is the only unnatural sound in the air; it is the most peaceful she’s felt since the last time she was out here, and that is the reason she always returns.

In her book, hand bound from handmade off-white paper and tied with leather straps to keep it together, a flower comes to life. Her hand is confident but not precise, scribbling the lines as they want to be, not worried about perfection or mistakes. She uses hatching and presses harder in the petals’ shadowed undersides until the image comes to life, as if she could pick the blossom right off the page.

Pleased, she cracks open a small square tin of paint blocks and unscrews the lid of her spare water bottle. A medium sized brush is chosen from the bundle in her skirt pocket, and she uses it to dampen the paper and then wash it with a vibrant hansa yellow. The sun dries it quickly but she’s used to it and works through, each layer darker and richer than the previous, layering them upon one another to recreate the prairie sunflower. A splash of burnt sienna blends into the dark mahogany centre, and then just a trickle of yellow and green along the delicate stem with the tip of the brush barely tickling the paper.

As the last of it dries, she takes up the pen once again. She dictates her observations in her curling script around the study; the number of petals and their formation, the shape of the leaves, the size against her hand. She notes down the scent, as much as she can describe, and the distribution of them she can see from where she sits cross legged in the grass.

As she repeats the calming process on the next page featuring the bright blue aster, and then overleaf about the lilac prairie larkspur, she doesn’t notice the faint shadow that appears on the wispy grasses beside her.

“How long has it been now?” It’s barely a whisper, in a telepathic voice so soft that the breeze almost carries it away. Vetru hears it still.

“Two years,” they answer. “This is where it began, the gathering of esk.”

From the wild mane along their spine peers a tiny grey face, their pale blaze lit up by the zapping sparks of Vetru’s dormant elemental. But they’re not scared at all of the esk who saved them, instead clinging to their back with tiny paws, safe at the wither of the plains biome Wanderer, as they had been since first transformed.

“And just over there,” they murmur, “by that cave?”

“That’s where I found you - or perhaps, where you found me. A tiny little fawn hiding from the flames, tottering up to curl beside me… I couldn’t bear to leave you.”

“Will you tell me the story again? Please!”

Vetru bows their head as they laugh, eyes creasing in amusement. “Always,” they say, and begin the tale to their enraptured audience. “There must have been six hundred in attendance, though perhaps more I missed for how small they were, all called from far away…”

Beside them, the human’s attention never wavers from her artwork, ears deaf to the conversation of spirits.

A large hare with huge ears perked right up soon happily wanders close, not feeling cautious when the human sits so still and quiet. Its tail bobs as it hops through the tufts of grass and pauses over and over to taste a mouthful or root through the moss for something hidden.

Yet again, the hare comes alive on her page. The sandy brown fur is a thin wash of sienna mixed with a splash of charcoal, its fur a mess of tangled cross hatching, wide eyes and tail tip the only unpainted whites remaining. _The hare,_ she writes neatly, _is larger and not hardly alike the rabbit in appearance as I for some reason always expect._

Vetru and Fawn watch the hare too. “Perhaps this little one was there, what do you think?”

The little esk tilts their head in thought before replying, “They must have been very brave.”

“They were,” Vetru agrees. “Esk guided as many as they could to safety, and even little cubs and chicks followed them through the flames. I expect many who live here now still remember that day.”

The two spirits survey the landscape, golden and green, lush with plant life.

“I can hardly believe it really happened…”

“I’m ashamed to say it did, but glad at how it worked out. Keahi is at peace now, still guarding these lands in their new form, and able to visit the ocean as they like. And here, as horrible as the wildfires appear to be, they do wonders for the ecosystem; do you see how many new flowers grow now, that couldn’t see the sunlight through the tall grasses before? And the grass itself is shorter but richer - there are more bison, horses, and deer here now that the grazing is better.”

“So, it may not appear to be a good thing, but it really helps a lot of creatures?”

“Yes,” the Wanderer responds.

“And your elemental power does the same thing, so it must be good sometimes, too.”

Vetru pauses, struck for a moment. They can feel the threatening tingles of dry storms in their fur, standing it upright with static, and knows just a second of lost control over their emotions could have the sky raging as it has done many a time before. But they can also hear the truth in the innocent being’s words, and they struggle to put into words how guilty they feel regardless.

Fawn doesn’t mind the silence, and continues. “So maybe it’s not all bad like you always say.”

An hour later the sun begins its steady, slow decline through the clear sky, but the three companions don’t hurry to move. Animals pass by on their daily schedules and more plants are sketched carefully.

Eventually, Vetru concedes with a thoughtful hum. “Maybe you’re right, Fawn.”

**Author's Note:**

> Vetru's wanderer prompt 2: elemental power
> 
> Base Score: 20 AP (Writing: 1041 words)  
> +10 AP (Wanderer Prompt)  
> +5 AP (Elemental: 5 AP * 1)  
> +5 AP (Personal Work Bonus)  
> +20 AP (NPC Bonus)  
> +8 AP (Storyteller Bonus: 8 AP * 1)  
> Total AP per submission: 68


End file.
